The Carousel Painter (28 page)

“Agatha! You weren’t supposed to tell anyone who he was.” Mr. Galloway’s stern tone and angry look surprised me. “How do you expect him to make any progress with his investigation?”

“I’m sorry, but they all thought it quite fascinating. I told them to act as though he was simply another guest.” She took another bite of her egg and pinned Augusta with a critical eye. “What is the matter with you this morning, Augusta? You’re particularly quiet. Are you ill?”

Augusta assured her mother that all was well, but I suspected she’d hoped Tyson would appear and escort her. Once we’d completed breakfast, we were off to church. Minus Tyson.

We had settled in the Galloways’ pew when I turned to say something to Augusta and noticed Detective Lawton sitting across the aisle, several rows back. He was alone, and once again he tipped his head in recognition. What was he doing here? I didn’t believe the detective lived in Fair Oaks. I whispered my surprise to Augusta, who simply shrugged and appeared indifferent. Obviously she was still lamenting the fact that Tyson had remained abed. Would she never come to her senses?

But this wasn’t the time to be thinking about Augusta or Tyson. I needed to keep my focus upon God so that I would receive the message He had for me. Both Mrs. Wilson and Josef told me they always prepared their hearts by meditating before the sermon. As usual, my thoughts were difficult to restrain. They wandered back to Tyson and Detective Lawton, but I soon managed to gain control of my roving worries and prayed that God would speak to me through the pastor’s message.

The preacher stepped to the pulpit, and I straightened my shoulders, giving him my full attention. When he announced he would speak from the book of Daniel, I gulped. I knew a little about Daniel and his bravery facing those lions, and that wasn’t a sermon I wanted to hear. Facing lions wasn’t high on my list—I’d seen them in the zoo with their ferocious teeth and powerful jaws. The lion I’d sketched for the carousel factory revealed the brawn and fierceness of the animals. Today I wanted to hear something that would soothe my discomfited soul.

The preacher looked out across the congregation, and I was sure his gaze rested upon me when he said, “I’m not going to preach about Daniel today. Instead, I want you to learn a lesson from Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.”

My insides looped tighter than a seaman’s knot. He was going to preach about that fiery furnace. Right then and there, I decided hearing about lions would be less frightening. Many years ago my mother had read to me the story about Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. I’d stayed away from the fireplace for quite some time after that. But now I forced myself to remain attentive while the preacher told how the three men stood firm in their beliefs, wouldn’t bow down to false gods, and were thrown into a blistering oven. As a child I hadn’t given much thought to the faithfulness the three of them exhibited, but now I was amazed. How had they managed to stand so firm in their faith?

“But what does this mean to us? We don’t have to face a fiery furnace.” The preacher posed the question, and I waited, along with the rest of the congregation, to hear the answer. I’d learned that church wasn’t like school. The preacher always answered his own questions. That permitted me some relief, because I didn’t always know the answers, and I didn’t want him to call on me. The reverend cleared his throat, and I looked up.

“It means that sometimes we’re thrust into another kind of fiery furnace. A furnace created by people who unfairly accuse or punish us. And when that happens, we need to stand fast in our belief that God will deliver us.”

When I glanced up, the preacher was pointing his thick index finger in my direction. I shuddered. I didn’t want God to test my faith. He should test people like Mrs. Wilson or Josef or Mr. Tobarth. People who would be willing to face roaring lions or a scorching fire.

“You must remember that God’s power is available to us in all of the struggles of life. God’s presence is with us in the troubling and frightening trials we face. We can go forth knowing that He is with us in our suffering.”

I wondered if that meant I should be prepared to suffer if I was accused of stealing Mrs. Galloway’s necklace. I removed my handkerchief from my reticule and dabbed my forehead. The sanctuary had become uncomfortably warm.

When we stood to sing the final hymn, I leaned close to Augusta. “It’s very warm in here, isn’t it?” I snapped open my fan and flipped it back and forth with a vengeance.

She frowned at me as though I’d lost my mind. “No!” She pointed to the fan. “You’re flapping that thing as though you’re trying to start a fire.”

Her comment stopped my fanning midflutter. I tucked the object into my reticule and followed her out of the church, still thinking it terribly warm.

I wasn’t surprised to learn that the chameleon had disappeared during our absence. The maid handed Augusta a note. In it, Tyson apologized for the hasty departure, said he was feeling much better, and would return Monday afternoon or Tuesday morning at the latest.

“He’s probably gone to see a doctor and doesn’t want to worry me,” Augusta said when we were alone.

“You may be right.” I didn’t believe he was going to a doctor and neither did she, but if it saved her embarrassment, I would play along. “You look tired, and I have laundry that needs my attention at home. I hope you’ll understand that I must leave early.”

“Laundry? On Sunday afternoon?”

I shrugged. “The Lord knows I must complete my laundry when time permits. Sunday may be the day of rest for some, but for those who work six days a week, there is work at home that needs attention.”

She didn’t argue, and for that I was grateful. I readied my belongings and, after thanking Mr. and Mrs. Galloway for their hospitality, instructed the recently hired liveryman to take my luggage to the carriage. With the opulent home and all of the newly engaged domestic help, I decided business must be very good for Mr. Galloway. Perhaps he and Josef would be able to move forward with the expansion of the factory sooner than anticipated.

When I stepped across the threshold onto the porch, I was surprised to see Ronald waiting for me. “I couldn’t let you return home unaccompanied,” he said.

I wanted to tell him I wouldn’t be alone. There was, after all, the carriage driver. I wondered if Augusta had encouraged him; she’d mentioned on several occasions Ronald and I would make a perfect match. I, on the other hand, didn’t agree. Though his manners were impeccable and his looks appealing, we had nothing in common. He’d been the perfect gentleman, but once we’d arrived in Fair Oaks, he had bored me with nothing but talk of himself. In his defense, I’d decided that was what the social set did at these gatherings.

During the carriage ride home, I plied him with several questions surrounding the missing necklace and rings, as well as Detective Lawton’s appearance at church, but he remained as uninterested today as he’d been last evening.

When we arrived at the boardinghouse, I saw Josef sitting on the front porch between Mrs. Wilson and Mr. Lundgren. His right knee was bouncing in a gyrating motion. Nothing good had ever happened when Josef bounced his knee in this fashion, and I hoped there wouldn’t be a repeat of Friday evening’s encounter.

I held my breath while the carriage driver removed my luggage. But before Ronald or I could greet him, Josef jumped up from his chair and crossed the porch in long determined strides. He entered the house, and behind him the screen door banged against the wooden doorframe in three short cracks.

CHAPTER
19

F
or the remainder of the afternoon, Josef was nowhere to be seen. I washed my clothes and, after hanging them on the lines, peeked around the corner of the house hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but to no avail. On one of my trips up and down the stairs, I thought I heard him in his bedroom. I refrained from asking Mrs. Wilson if she’d seen him, for I didn’t want her to think me overly interested in his whereabouts.

At suppertime Josef took his chair across the table as though his earlier disappearance had been a normal occurrence. Neither Mrs. Wilson nor Mr. Lundgren mentioned his perplexing behavior, so I didn’t, either. Mr. Lundgren thanked God for our food, and Mrs. Wilson passed the meat platter. The pork roast appeared to be cooked to perfection, and I said so. Mrs. Wilson beamed. “I followed the instructions you wrote down for me last week.”

Mr. Lundgren took a bite and nodded his appreciation. “Maybe you should write down instructions every day. This is mighty tasty.”

Josef forked a piece of meat onto his plate. “Your time at the Galloways’ was gut?”

The question caught me off guard, and my attention shifted from the platter of meat to his intense stare. The look was powerful enough to make me want to turn away, but I held fast, unwilling to surrender to the urge. “Their new home is lovely. The party was well attended and the food excellent. I ate so much my stomach hurt all evening.”

His eyes softened at the admission. “You could not dance?”

“There was no dancing at the party, only eating and talking to people. It was a party for the Galloways to entertain and visit with their new neighbors.”

“And to show off their fancy house, ja?”

“Mrs. Galloway is very proud of her new home.” I’d leave it at that. The Galloways had been good to me, and I didn’t want Josef or anyone else to think me ungrateful. “And how was the dance you attended?”

“Was gut. Lots of dancing and music. Lots of ladies—and men. Many people.”

“And did you dance with a lot of the ladies?” I wanted to stuff the question back in my mouth the moment I’d uttered the final word.

He grinned and there was a twinkle in his eye. “You are worried one of those ladies will win my heart?”

Mr. Lundgren winked at Mrs. Wilson, who giggled in response. They were obviously enjoying the exchange.

“I’m not worried, merely interested.”

“Ja, you are worried. I can see it in your eyes.” He pointed to one of his own chocolate brown eyes and grinned.

A sudden surge of anger battled within. I didn’t want Josef making assumptions about my feelings for him or for anyone else. However, with the three of them laughing, I decided it would be better to join them rather than argue the point. The truth was, I
had
been worried some attractive young lady would steal his heart. I just didn’t want Josef to know it!

When we finished supper, I went outside and sat on the porch. A short time later Josef joined me. “Is a nice evening.”

I agreed but then added, “My worry over those ladies at the dance is not as great as your concern over Ronald Galloway.” I knew I should let the matter rest, but I’d given in at supper and couldn’t resist revisiting the topic.

Instead of becoming irritated, Josef nodded. “You are right. That Ronald Galloway is someone to worry me. He has money and knows fancy people. For you, he could make a gut husband.”

“He would make a good husband for someone, but I don’t think it will be me. He is very nice, but he has met a young woman he cares for very much. Besides, his parents would never think I was a good match for him.”

“This person was at the party?”

“No. He met her only recently and hasn’t introduced her to his parents yet. He’s told only Augusta—and she told me.”

Josef appeared to be digesting my response. “I do not think Mr. Farnsworth is gut man for your friend Augusta. Mr. Galloway likes him?”

I explained that Tyson’s family was old money and Mrs. Galloway wanted Augusta to marry into a social status higher than their own. Josef nodded, though I don’t think he completely understood. I would have preferred to tell him about the missing pieces of jewelry and my concern that I was a suspect, but I feared speaking about it just yet. I had been praying something would happen that would vindicate me.

Our conversation slipped back to familiar ground when I inquired if he’d made any progress with my drawings of the zoo animals. “Ja. When I have time on Sunday afternoons and sometimes in the evening, I have been drafting the plans.”

My pleasure mounted at the news. I thought he’d completely pushed aside the concept. “Which drawing are you working on?”